If You Only Knew
by BonesDoUrden
Summary: Short Severus/Hermione one-shot. Post series. Semi-loosely based around "If You Only Knew" by Shinedown


**A/N:** Inspired by "If You Only Knew" by Shinedown. The idea popped in my head and I had to write it before I went to bed, so I apologize for any grammatical/spelling errors. Severus' letter is a slightly edited rendition of the lyrics of the song, so it doesn't sound utterly stupid. I also apologize if he seems a bit OCC, but he's supposed to. :)  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Don't own HP, only playing in the sandbox. Don't own "If You Only Knew" either, but I've listened to it 1,694 times on iTunes since I got the album. x3

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><p>The tip of his quill tapped on the very edge of the finely constructed crystal ink-well in a slow, rhythmical way, his eyes transfixed upon the blank cream colored parchment in front of him. He had been exchanging letters with Hermione on a slightly less than semi-regular basis for some months now, ever since he had fully recovered from the final battle and yet, this was the first time that he didn't know what to say. Always, in the past, he'd known how to respond to her infinite exuberance to all things of an academic and, as of late, personal nature, but not this time. This time she had, in typical Hermione Granger fashion, spoken—or rather, written—before she thought, professing in a most animated and determined manner, the apparent violence of affection she felt toward him; her exact words had been, in fact, "<em>I love you, and I don't intend to ever stop.<em>"

Those ten words (surprisingly lacking her typical 'smarter-than-the-rest-of-the-world vocabulary) had left him effectively gob smacked for some time and it was only after a few generous helpings of Firewhiskey that he'd been able to read her letter over again with some sense of comprehension or, dare he admit it, understanding. So now, here he sat, tapping the edge of the ink-well she'd sent along with one of her letters as a Christmas gift with the nub of a well worn quill, completely at a loss as to how to answer her request to meet with her (for the first time since the Shrieking Shack) for lunch, or dinner, if he preferred.

"Dear Hermione… No, that will never do." Severus berated himself, subconsciously biting his lip. "Come on, fool! You've been corresponding with her for months; how hard can it be to answer one little letter?"

It was some time after his agitated muttering to himself ceased that inspiration struck, finally allowing him to dip his quill into the ink and allowed whatever words that flowed onto the parchment do so unbidden—he knew that if he thought about his pending response any more than absolutely necessary, it would never get sent, which would only result in swamp loads of notes and letters from the Gryffindor Princess. Ignoring Hermione Granger was simply not an option, as he'd discovered the hard way.

_If you only knew, I'm hanging by a thread—the web I spin for you. If you only knew, I'd sacrifice my beating heart before I'd lose you. Yes, I still hold onto the letters you returned; I swear I've lived and learned in the time since the battle at Hogwarts. Since, but not before._

_It's 4:03 and I can't sleep, either. I toss and turn like the sea, so if I happen to drown tonight, bring me back to life—breathe your breath in me; the only thing that I still believe in is you. Oh, if you only knew, Hermione. If you only knew how many times I've counted all the words that went wrong between us since you first stepped within my shouting range._

_I don't regret any days I spent as a spy, or letters that I sent since the War has ended. Quite honestly, you've helped me live and learn how to live as a free man since saving me from Nagini's bite. If you only knew._

_-Severus_

_P.S. Would dinner tomorrow night in London be acceptable? I do believe we now have much more to discuss than books and potions._

Without giving the letter a second glance, he folded it up and sent it off to her flat in the care of his owl, getting up and pouring himself a generous portion of Firewhiskey from the bottle on the table in the corner, downing most of it in a single gulp. Even with the pleasant burning of the alcohol sliding down his throat, Severus knew that he would more than likely regret writing whatever it was he'd said in that letter. Not five minutes had passed since his own owl had returned from its excursion than Hermione's messenger bird swooped in through an open window and landed on his desk, extending toward him a scrap of parchment delicately held in its beak.

Heaving a sigh and letting his glass land on the corner table once more in a decidedly abrupt manner, Severus retrieved the note, almost dreading her reply. Almost.

_Tomorrow night would be fantastic! Where and when will we meet?_

_Yours, Hermione_

Severus merely flipped the scrap of parchment over and scrawled out that he would pick her up at her flat at 8pm and that she should dress formally. Once the note was on its way, he looked out of the window to the deserted street beyond, wondering to himself whether he should dread the prospect of dinner the following night or look forward to it.

When it came to Hermione, he decided that he would probably never know, but so long as he could recall where he had packed away his formal Muggle attire, Severus concluded that he was definitely okay with not knowing. But only just this once.


End file.
